


Fluffy Simbaz Drabbles

by LamsLuver



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 15:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10282304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamsLuver/pseuds/LamsLuver
Summary: A collection of cute, adorable, fluffy Simbaz drabbles. Happiness guaranteed! :D





	1. Scones

Baz  
-~-  
I had been peacefully sleeping when my boyfriend decided jumping into a cabinet was a good idea.  
Pots and pans clattered onto the floor. At first, I tried to ignore it. Vampires still need sleep. But after the fiftieth crash, I slammed my hand into the bed and stormed down the hallway.  
I was about to give Simon a whole lecture about beauty sleep and how this was so frustrating and how he should just stay and cuddle with me until morning...  
My fantasy was broken by another shatter. I stood, slack jawed in the kitchen, where every utensil imaginable littered the tiled flooring.  
"What the..." My eyes scanned the floor, trying to find spots to put my feet.  
From the heavens above, a ceramic jar with a small band of red came crashing down to the floor, shattering into tiny shards.  
I looked up, only to see all-to-familiar mismatched socks.  
"Simon! Get down from there!" Simon was currently in the top most cabinet above the fridge. I wasn't sure what he was trying to get, but it must have been pretty valuable.  
I maneuvered myself around the floor so I was by the refrigerator. I looked up, seeing only the back of his shirt.  
"No way!" My eyes seemed to roll themselves automatically.  
"I'm going to call Penelope." The threat may seem empty, but she could get anyone, especially Simon, to stop doing whatever unimaginably idiotic thing they were currently doing.  
"Go ahead, I'll fight her." A soup ladle came sailing over my head, banging onto the oven.  
"Crowley, Simon," I grumbled, mostly to myself. Simon was oblivious, still searching for this mystery object. I looked around, trying to get an idea. I couldn't grab his feet and pull him down; that would leave him with disastrous injuries. I also couldn't call Penny, not yet. What else would Simon love? There was a jar of salt, a jar of sugar, a jar of scones-  
An idea formed perfectly in my mind. Leaning over, I grabbed the secret scones stash I hid from Simon. (I had to have some scones for myself!)  
A sweet smile came upon my face.  
"Simon?" Some other poor utensil was damaged, clanging above me.  
"Go away!" he muffle-yelled.  
"I have scones." All of a sudden, the noise stopped. Simon peeked his head out from the cabinet, curls bouncing in every angle.  
"Sconces?" he asked, looking at me. His gaze went downward and he saw the glorious cherry sconces I was holding in the jar.  
"If you want them," I sung, "you have to come down from the fridge."  
Faster than I would've thought possible, Simon jumped off the fridge and managed not to break his feet on the two jars beside him. Hungrily grabbing one scone, he shoved it in his mouth, crumbs decorating the side.  
"Ya know," he said, wiping some of the crumbs off his face. "I totally would've fought her."  
A smile inevitably broke onto my face. Encircling my arms around his waist, I leaned into his ears and whispered "I know you would."  
-~-


	2. Cookie Dough

Baz  
-~-  
I didn't bake often.   
But when I did, Simon made sure that my daily workout was exhausted. From grabbing his wrist right before he was about to steal the dough from physically pushing him out of the kitchen, I had to do everything to make sure I got to bake at all.  
Today was no different.  
I decided on making the usual chocolate chip cookie recipe, one that I used often when I was at home. Something about gooey chocolate mixed in with a sugar cookie made for a delightful treat.   
It also fell in the category of one of the two things that made Simon Snow shut up.  
Of course, I could always complain and say "it was too hot" inside the room and proceed to take my shirt off, but I wanted to stay fully dressed today.   
I started with the typical cookie recipe I always used, gathering up an egg, flour, sugar, vanilla extract, chocolate chips, baking soda...  
Each ingredient was delicately measured to perfection before being poured into a glass bowl. After the stark whiteness of the flour mixed fully with the yellow of the egg and the liquidity of the extract, becoming a delicate mixture of soft chocolate color, I cracked my knuckles.  
This is where it gets hard.  
I don't know how the little demon can smell unbaked cookie dough, but some idiot decided it would be a great gift to give him.  
Asshole.  
Now, I was ready for the martial arts part of my baking sessions. The sneaky, adorable, amazing little bastard would use any technique available to him in order to sneak some cookie dough.  
I was prepared for ninja moves and flying skills  
I was not prepared for the six inch heels.   
Almost all of my perfectly shaped cookie dough was on the parchment paper when I heard a clicking behind me. At first, I thought it was a bee. Somewhat irritating, but I could handle a buzz for a few moments. However, the sound got louder. I turned behind my in curiosity.  
Only to see Simon towering above me.  
He flirtatiously smiled at me, leaning against the counter. He was wearing a button up for once, but I'm not sure he understood the buttons were supposed to actually button up.   
"Hi sweetheart," he smiled at me. My mouth hung open, unable to process what I was seeing.  
Simon.  
Taller than me.   
I sputtered, trying to speak, but only making choked sounds.  
"What-how did y-wha-" Simon interrupted me before I could form a coherent sentence.   
"Just thought I'd try on these new shoes. Do you like them?" he purred. He took a step closer, leaning into to put his hand underneath my chin. A blush burned into my cheeks, leaving my flustered.  
"I-I just-um." Simon leaned in closer, effectively shutting me up, even though he didn't kiss me. His nose just barely brushed mine, but I still felt a roil of emotions swell in my chest.  
Softly, I muttered, "How did you-" Simon leaned in, just as if he was going to kiss me, but barely missed my lips, instead, finding his way to the corner of my mouth.   
I was 100% positive I was as red as the cherries in his scones.   
His fingers slid underneath the crook of my arm to my neck, where he fiddled with my collar. He rested his chin on my collarbone, his warm lips pressed up against my shoulder.   
"If I kiss you," he mumbled into my shoulder, "will you give me cookie dough?"  
I almost didn't catch what he said, too focused on trying not to pass out.  
Cookie dough? My mind took a while to come back into reality, but I quickly tried to blink away the feelings from a moment before.  
"Ab-absolutely not!" I took Simon by the shoulders and firmly lifted him from his position. He obeyed but stubbornly kept his hands trailing up my sides. I forced down a shiver of pleasure, trying to stay focused on not letting him die of salmonella.   
"Snow." I took in a breath, putting on my best Pitch face. "No cookie dough." He gave me a small pout, tilting his head to the side.  
"Why not?" he complained, setting his chest onto mine. He went to lean back into my shoulder, but I pushed him back up.   
"No. Dough," I stated firmly, or at least as firmly as I could manage.   
He just smiled, reach his hand up to stroke the edge of my chin. I tried to glare at him, but god I wanted to make out with him. Just throw the cookies onto the floor and let him be taller and stronger and pin me to the counter...  
Simon gave the smile to me again, the one that made my heart skip a beat.  
"I'll make out with you," he offered, now setting his forehead against mine. I felt my breath hitch, but I forced myself to keep steady.  
I glanced at the cookies.  
Then I glanced at Simon.  
His eyes were filled with mischief, lighting every part of his iris with it.  
And that's how I ended up throwing all the cookie dough onto the floor.  
-~-


	3. Plotting

Simon  
-~-  
Often times, I hated being shorter than Baz.  
Yes, we were now "boyfriends" and "in love" and "made out with each other almost every night" but he never lost that little spark of mischief in him. And dammit, he even kept his same, plotting little smirk!  
I was convinced he was plotting today.  
He didn't have his shirt on. All day! Usually, he was fully dressed by the time I woke up (if he woke up earlier.) And yeah, I totally caught on to his "oh no I'm so hot" gig (although I would never call him on that) but this plotting must've been different.  
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I was crouched in the fridge cabinet, watching for any more suspicious signs. So far, the only other weird thing Baz did was eat one of my scones.   
I checked my phone. It was a text from Penny.  
Penny: Where are you?  
Me: Hiding.  
Penny: Shit. Why?  
Me: Baz is plotting.  
Penny: (facepalm emoji)X10  
Penny: Not again...  
Me: What!! He had his shirt off all morning!  
Penny: ...  
Me: What  
Penny: Maybe he's not plotting what you think he's plotting.  
Me: Um he's obviously plotting my downfall  
Me: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
Penny: He's not trying to get you to do...something else?  
Me: What would that be?  
Penny: Yeah, I'll let you figure that out yourself. Later, dumbo.  
I frowned at my phone. Penny didn't believe my very plausible explanations.   
Rustling in the kitchen. I hurried to the crack between the cabinet door and the cabinet. Baz's black hair swayed back and forth as he put his empty cereal bowl into the sink. Still shirtless!  
Definitely plotting.  
Abruptly, he let out an exasperated sigh.  
"Snow, I know you're in the cabinet. Would you please come out?" He gave a stern look to the cabinet.  
"I'm not in here." Baz sighed again.  
"Snow."  
I didn't answer.  
"Snoow," he sung.  
I still didn't answer. I would not give into his ruthless plotting.  
With a final groan, he said "Simon."  
"Simon says you're plotting."  
Baz gave another annoyed look to the cabinet.  
"You know what cabinet, I've had quite enough of you!" Grabbing on corner of the fridge, Baz pulled himself up, setting another foot onto the counter. And he was in boxers.  
(Plotting!)  
Slender fingers wrapped around the cabinet door before opening. The one and only beautiful Baz looked up at Simon.  
"Sweetheart," Baz said giving that plotting smile. "Why don't you come down from the cabinet."  
I smirked, crossing my arms over my chest and laying my legs out in a casual position.  
"Make me," I asked, going to lean in a casual position. Suddenly, my butt was sliding from under and I almost crashed down onto the kitchen floor.  
"Simon!" Baz yelped grabbing me with one arm. His arm tightly gripped my waist, keeping me from accidentally killing myself via kitchen tiles.   
Baz slowly lowered me down onto the floor until I was safe to plop down. (A stage in his plot.)  
He jumped off the counter, chest muscles flexing in the process. (Plot.)  
I had to come up with an idea to stop this madness!  
What always got Baz weak in the knees?  
I couldn't run off and put my heels back on. My shirtless thing didn't work as well as his. He wasn't convinced as easily by food. But...  
I turned to stand towards him. I slung my arm around his neck, leaning in to kiss him. Slowly, our lips were almost close to touching...  
My right arm hooked around Baz's neck as I brought him around in a perfect headlock. His arms flailed as he tried to look at me.  
"Simon," he asked. "What the fu-"  
"Ask no more," I answered, tightening my grip.  
"Tyranny-something Basilton Grimm-Pitch, I have successfully foiled your plot!"  
Baz just groaned.


	4. Kitchen Nightmares

Simon  
-~-  
Bleep bleep bleep!  
I groaned, not wanting to get up yet. Drowsily, I slammed my hand down in odd directions until the forsaken alarm clock finally stopped. Why did we even need an alarm clock? So what if I miss my whole life! That's what night time is for; making crazy memories to fulfill for the ones you miss when you don't wake up on time.  
Lazily, I turned to lay on my back, focusing on the green ceiling. Each bump in it made me feel like I was in a hammock, rocking back and forth, back and forth. I had almost drifted back to sleep when my stomach rumbled.  
"Seriously?" I asked, turning to glare at my stomach.   
Give my scones! My stomach asked.  
"Ugh, you're such a pain when you want scones," I mumbled. I threw my blankets aside with a mighty swoosh and pull myself out of the bed. My feet squeaked as I dragged them against the hard wood floor.   
Sniffling broke me from my sleepy daze. I moved closer to the kitchen, leaning over to see what was happening.  
The breath was sucked out of me.  
Baz was leaning over the counter, the front of his wrist covering his eyes. A tear streaked down his pale cheeks, like a stream of cracked glass. In his other hand, a knife dangled out at an odd angle, the sharp edge dangerously close to his other wrist. What if...  
I rushed to his side, panic engulfing my chest.  
"Baz." I rushed through the word, too demanding, too sloppy. My muscles started shaking. I clenched my hands into fists, the imagine of Baz's cut skin trying to crack me open-  
"Simon?" Baz asked. He peered up at me, seeming perfectly normal. His voice didn't shake, nor was he bleeding. Granted, he could just not have enough blood in him to bleed, but the sight of his uninjured arm filled me with relief.  
"Oh Crowley," I breathed. "For fuck's sake, I thought you were cutting yourself!" Panic and relief seemed to keep my tongue moving. "And jeez I didn't know what to expect, you covered in blood, and your arm in blood and you'd be crying and broken and-"  
Baz interrupted me with an unusually intimate gesture: A hug. He gingerly wrapped his arms around me, holding me in a warm embrace. Slowly, my heart rate returned back to normal.  
"Baz," I asked, squeezing him back. "Why were you crying?"  
"Oh," he answered, laughing softly. I felt it resonate within me, feeling almost like a healing spell. "I was just cutting onions for lunch preparation, love, nothing to fret over."  
I pulled back.  
"Onions!?" I asked, dismayed at my reaction. Baz just chuckled upon seeing my face. He readjusted the onion knife and continued dicing the onion.   
"Yes love," he replied. "They give my pork brisket a dazzling taste."  
I facepalmed. An onion.   
A nervous laughter escaped my lungs. "An onion," I repeated, dazed. "And here I thought you were cutting yourself!" Baz gently leaned over to kiss my cheek. I was surprised by the gesture, but it was rather comforting.  
"Now darling," he told me, a smile on his face, "Let's get you some real breakfast, shall we?"  
-~-


End file.
